Five o'clock in the a.m., for no good reason
Not satisfied with all the large-scale horrors he's wrought in the last eight years, Il Douche -- owner of the lowest approval rating since the invention of polling, which, to a non-sociopath would be a hint to just shut the fuck up now -- is spending this last month or so of his lame, wingless, SARS-afflicted-duck presidency very carefully and thoroughly caulking all the cracks and spackling all the holes with some grade-A pig shit, just to make sure he didn't miss fucking up anything he could possibly have fucked up. It's his little gift to us, the citizenry -- a ring-n-run* in which he leaves a giant flaming bag of donkey turds at the front door of the White House for us all to step in.
January 20 CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH.
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*Um, that's not what we called it where I grew up. But I am trying to rise above my circumstances.
Labels: balls o'clock a.m., christ on toast points -- politics, Stab stab stab stabbity stab, things that are bad for the world
posted by Gleemonex at 12:10 PM
1 Comments:
I once called it "ding-dong-ditch" and my husband was all "where the hell are YOU from?" (he's from Dallas and grew up calling it the same shameful moniker as we did, and was afraid that our little hicktown - which he commonly uses as a reference point for all things backward - had somehow risen above its neighbors. I assured him that we, sir, had NOT.)
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